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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861708">The Human Vaccination Booster Shots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/toniwilder/pseuds/toniwilder'>toniwilder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work, The Human Vaccination - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, The Human Vaccination</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:20:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,991</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25861708</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/toniwilder/pseuds/toniwilder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shot warm ups for my original characters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PROMPT: Positive spin on a funeral</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>              The driver’s seat moved back into a reclined position when Sal yawned.</p><p>              “Let me know when they get into view,” he said, all hollow-vowel and drawled.</p><p>              Lorena nodded and leaned forward. Her chin rested easy against the dashboard as she looked over the funeral proceedings under the nearby tent. In the spring heat and rain, the bright green awning practically targeted itself in the sights of Sal’s pistol.</p><p>              She sipped from her flask, let the tequila warm her all the way down, and shut her eyes for just a moment to savor the calm before the chaos.</p><p>              “There’s something poetic about the funeral assassination plan, yeah?” Sal murmured beside her, perpendicular with the floorboard at this point.</p><p>              “I suppose.”</p><p>              Sal cracked his knuckles against the bone of his hip, cladded in black denim. “Nobody ever likes the company at a funeral. It’s always filled with the fuckers you only bothered talking to because of the unlucky mook in the casket.”</p><p>              “Not always.”</p><p>              She thought of the day she buried her family after the explosion and the soothing hands on her shoulder. It hadn’t helped the grief much, but she hadn’t been distracted by hatred like Sal seemed to think. Though, Sal never attested to thinking positively about anybody.</p><p>              He ignored her disagreement. “I like to think, on jobs like these…” Sal hoisted himself back up and pointed to the back of a short, older man underneath the green awning. “That guy. Let’s call him… Bart.”</p><p>              “Alright.”</p><p>              “Bart is probably a dick. He stands like a dick. Don’t like him already. Wish our hit was on him.”</p><p>              “Of course.”</p><p>              “So, let’s say,” Sal picked up his pistol and pointed it at Bart’s back. “I shot him.”</p><p>              Lorena turned away from the graveside service to give Sal her full attention.</p><p>              “I like to think that would be the best thing that woman over there—we can call her Sharon.”</p><p>              “Sharon.”</p><p>              “So, Sharon hates Bart. Bart stole a check from her dying grandmother and fucked her dad. Hates the bastard.”</p><p>              When Lorena looked back to the service, a man clasped his hands together and lowered his head at the front of the grave.</p><p>              “I don’t follow.”</p><p>              Sal barked a short laugh. “If I kill Bart, I bet you Sharon will be so happy. She’d love it. Karma loaded and pulled the trigger on him and she didn’t even have to open her wallet. I can’t count how many people I’ve seen at funerals that I’d rather be in the damn box.”</p><p>              Lorena almost rolled her eyes, but thought better of it.</p><p>              “I wouldn’t assume everyone thinks that way,” she advised.</p><p>              Sal stretched again, the lazy housecat of insurance. “Oh, there he is.”</p><p>              A young man dressed in Vuitton and gelled up by his personal stylist turned from the procession to leave the cemetery hillside. He stepped around his body guard to give one last wave to the woman Sal named Sharon, then separated from the service to walk to his car.</p><p>              Then, no sooner than the words left Sal’s mouth and the wave was made, a short burst of gunfire filled the air like a miles distanced thunder strike. Vuitton dropped fast—a bullet to the head did that. Sal kept his hand on his pistol, waiting for the helter skelter that immediately erupted as the bodyguard searched the area for the assailant.</p><p>              Then the back door opened and Cio, dressed in his beautiful blue suit and freshly wafting the smell of rain and gunpowder, slipped into the back seat of Sal’s Mercedes. His rifle nestled in the floor board and Sal turned around to look over his shoulder (and to steal a glimpse of Cio, Lorena knew) as he pulled out of the graveyard.</p><p>              “Good job. You’ve earned yourself a treat, Cici.”</p><p>              Lorena could see Cio’s eyeroll in the rearview mirror but couldn’t miss the slightest of smirks underneath his peppered beard. “Oh? I was simply doing my job.”</p><p>              Sal looked back through the windshield, gator grin and all, and said, “You made somebody very happy.”</p><p>              Lorena took another drink of tequila and sunk back into her seat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Set before events of The Human Vaccination. Lueger shows Sal his bees.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sal cleaned his pistols with flippant movements of his wrist, waiting until the rags came clean from the barrel and then carelessly piling gun after gun atop one another. The metal of glock’s necks clanged just a little, not enough to ring in the air, and, after the fifth gun was clean, Sal opened his mouth and let out a rude, loud, yawn that made Lueger’s shoulders roll back.</p><p>“You keep staring like that and I’ll have to give you the lube to get something else off, Nick,” Sal said.</p><p>Lueger smiled.</p><p>“Have you ever been to see my hive?”</p><p>Sal’s eyebrows pulled together.</p><p>“Is that a euphemism or a threat?”</p><p>Lueger pulled himself up to his feet and offered Sal his hand. Sal ignored it and stood on his own after pocketing his last pistol into his shoulder holster.</p><p>“I suppose it could be either, given your mood, mausebar.”</p><p>Something like a flash in Sal’s inkblot eyes. The unmistakable disdain of a young man itching to pull condescending nicknames out of Lueger’s mouth by grabbing his jugular and twisting. The first time had been a slip, but Lueger couldn’t help but dote anymore. The flash and then the lack of resolve was too interesting. Sal could snap out venom like a desert cobra and Lueger had seen him do it. The stillness was more peculiar than any cruelty the man might muster.</p><p>Sal raised one eyebrow plaintively, something simmering still behind his firm stare even when he said in a lilting tone, “Show me based on yours. Your mood, of course.”</p><p>Lueger grinned.</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>He kept the hives in the back of his property upstate where he could be left alone with the hum of buzzing worker bees and soft pulls of wind through pine trees and flowerbeds. The path from the house to the hives wasn’t terribly lengthy, but Sal’s meandering pace made the trek take twice as long.</p><p>Lueger stopped walking when he heard Sal’s steps halt and a lighter click. By the time Lueger looked over his shoulder, Sal was already dragging on the cigarette and letting the smoke out from his nostrils. The smell of tar curled into Lueger’s septum and he laughed.</p><p>“If people hate cigarette smoke, what makes you think my bees will like it?”</p><p>Sal snorted. “I don’t care what bees like.”</p><p>Lueger padded over and held his hand out for the cigarette. “You should. This is very educational. They control so much of our environment.” He clenched at the air and smiled when his palm was open faced again. “Gimme,” he urged.</p><p>The little spark again. Sal took another deep breath and dropped the cigarette in between them in the dirt. It blazed until Sal stomped it out with his heel.</p><p>“Oh, I had a saving cap,” Lueger hummed, “You didn’t need to stomp it out. I know those are expensive.”</p><p>“I did too.” Sal walked past Lueger easily. “I just don’t need that one later. Where are your fucking bees?”</p><p>Lueger brushed past him and quickened his pace. “Just up ahead. There’s quite a few hives now. It takes a lot of work and patience, but the rewards are so wonderful!”</p><p>“Uhuh.”</p><p>The two men walked in step now, Sal having taken to a more amenable pace to likely get this metaphor over with. The white blocks of manmade hives came into sight not long before the sound of buzzing filled the air. Sal grunted unintelligibly but said nothing more about it. When they were only a few brisk strides from the hive, Lueger stopped and dug a small container of ointment from his pocket.</p><p>Sal’s nose scrunched.</p><p>“And my cigarette smelled bad? That ointment smells like a hospital had a baby with a morgue and then ran over it in a Tesla so it bled out on a goddamn urinal.”</p><p>“You have such a command of the English language,” Lueger laughed loudly. “It is distinct, but it’s either this or get stung!”</p><p>Sal stared at the ointment, further narrowing his eyes as Lueger took a dollop of the gel and placed it behind his ear, on his collar bone, and on his ankle. Just as Lueger began to screw the top back on, Sal snatched it out of his hand and repeated the actions.</p><p>“Not so bad, right?” Lueger pressed.</p><p>“You stink so much of it I don’t really have much of a choice, now do I, boss?”</p><p>Lueger frowned.</p><p>“I’m not your boss, Sal. I’m your mentor, remember?”</p><p>“Right.”</p><p>Sal motioned to the hives.</p><p>“Alright, so here we are. What mentoring are we doing here? What grand lesson am I to gather from the pollinator apartment complex you’re making?”</p><p>Lueger laughed. “It <em>is</em> a bit like an apartment complex! How fun!”</p><p>“Ugh.”</p><p>He walked up to the hive, Sal tentatively following behind with his arms loosely crossed. Lueger motioned Sal closer with a bob of his head as he pulled up the first frame. Sal, despite how much he loved to play skeptic, loosened up then. Curiosity was always the best hook. Sal moved closer as Lueger motioned up and down the frame’s honeycomb structure. The bees worked easily and ignored them even in the sudden exposure to the air.</p><p>“This is a year’s worth of work and collaboration,” Lueger said. “They created this because they don’t know to do anything else. Their instincts make the world survive. They’re so powerful, wonderful, incredible little soldiers.”</p><p>“Hm.” Sal’s eyes narrowed as he poured over the detail of the hive.</p><p>“See this one?” Lueger pointed into one honeycomb. “He’s small, struggling, but still working with his fellow brothers for the greater cause.”</p><p>Sal finally looked up at Lueger. “And what greater cause am I serving?”</p><p>Lueger grinned. “You are so sharp. I enjoy working with you so much.”</p><p>“This isn’t an extraordinarily complex metaphor, Lueger. It’s nearing propaganda.”</p><p>“Awe. No.” Lueger placed the frame into the hive again. “Not propaganda. Anything looks like propaganda when you question your purpose. Working for a system that disagrees with anything will lead to indoctrination—”</p><p>“You didn’t answer my question.”</p><p>“I can’t!” Lueger slapped his hand against Sal’s shoulder and the smaller man nearly jumped. His eyes narrowed once more, almost slits. Instead of removing his palm, Lueger gave Sal’s shoulder a rub. “You’re the only one who can! Who is your queen? What will you die for? Work for?”</p><p>“I don’t consider myself much of a bee.” Sal twisted out of Lueger’s grasp. “And you shouldn’t either. It’s a shitty way to live, in a hivemind.”</p><p>“Everything is a hive,” Lueger insisted. “Everything. Even your grasp at independence isn’t as unique as you might expect. You’re in the same hive as criminals, thinking you’re above what we all exist as. You would do yourself a favor by finding a different hive. You’re not special, as much as I adore you for being special to me.”</p><p>Sal’s jaw clenched.</p><p>“So, you want me to find a club and buy a jacket.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you should do,” Lueger said. “I just know you could make a lot of honey when you figure it out.”</p><p>Lueger laughed, slapped Sal’s shoulder again. Sal hissed.</p><p>“Are we done here? We have other shit going on. This is an entire day wasted to look at your bees.”</p><p>“Ah, we’ll never be done. But I suppose we can move along. Let’s have tea!” Lueger pointed back the way they came. “In the house! I have beautiful hand raised tea leaves, you’ll love it.”</p><p>When they got back to the house and Lueger served Sal the tea, Sal looked into the glass and then said, after having watched Lueger brew the cup in silence the entire time:</p><p>“I don’t drink tea.”</p><p>Lueger laughed again. He would be such a good worker one day.</p>
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